New Year’s Day
The rain this morning falls
on the last of the snow
and will wash it away. I can smell
the grass again, and the torn leaves
the grass again, and the torn leaves
being eased down into the mud.
The few loves I’ve been allowed
The few loves I’ve been allowed
to keep are still sleeping
on the West Coast. Here in Virginia
on the West Coast. Here in Virginia
I walk across the fields with only
a few young cows for company.
a few young cows for company.
